The Forest
The Forest is a short story written by LoganWoerner for the Spring Writing Contest 2014. Story Pitter-patter-pitter-patter-pitter-patter... The out-of-sync sound of water hitting the forest floor had begun; the winter snow was finally succumbing to the whispering arrival of spring. The sun had not yet risen, but the soft light of it's rays managed to peek over the broad horizon, giving the forest an inviting look; you could almost see the trees beckoning. The forest did not have to wait long for company. A ground squirrel's bleary face poked out of it's hole, it's wet nose twitching, wishing he had had a longer hibernation. The small rahi quickly scurried across the ground, grabbed a nut, and returned to his hole. Maybe if he got himself comfortable enough, he would be able to hibernate for a day or two longer. Maybe company would have to wait, the forest thought. As the snow continued to melt, the tree branches were gradually being relieved of the extra weight. It had been months since the trees had been this light, and it felt good. Refreshing, even. Small clumps of snow fell to the forest floor, a satisfying pat! sounding when each made contact. Green patches of grass poked through the cold snow, each glistening blade catching some of the sunlight as dawn continued to progress. The leaves had just begun to grow back, each little green bud getting ready to open when the time was right. The whole forest seemed to get richer and thicker, fuller of life than it had been before. The mass of trees and plants had never been better. And now the time was right for company. A distance away from the forest's edge, a feminine silhouette advanced toward the trees, her armor glinting in the morning light. The forest invited the figure with open arms, longing to show her the fruits of it's labor, needing a soul to capture; it had been so lonely in it's frozen state. No birds had flown through it's trees, no rabbits had bounded across it's grass. Not even the ash bear had come to eat the berries from it's bushes—well, it had no berries during the winter, so that, possibly, was understandable. The being reached the edge of the forest, and now she was more visible. She wore silver armor, and had a shield mounted on her left shoulder. Electric green lights shined through the holes in her mask. Those lights were expressive—they must be her eyes. They were wide in amazement, almost sparkling with wonder. Something was different about this lifeform. The forest had no connection with her; it could not feel the wonder that was so obviously plastered upon her face. It was as if this being was not even alive at all. How could this be? The forest continued to watch the not-alive life form as it continued to walk through. Her metallic hand brushed one of it's branches. The hand felt cold. This—thing—was not alive at all! What a shame. The forest had high hopes. It decided to watch as this synthetic life form continued through the forest, gasping in awe at every turn, touching every new plant she saw. But what was this? The being started to rush over to one of the forest's tree trunks, kneeling down at it's base. She started to brush some snow away, revealing a sprout that was startlingly green—almost like the being's eyes. The sprout looked sick, though. Yes, the forest could feel the dying sproutlet now. But it could not be helped. Plants live and die, and if a sproutlet could not handle the beginning of spring, then that was too bad. Now what? This fake life form put her palm over the sproutlet, and then a circle of light emanated from the hand. The snow began to melt, freeing the baby plant from the clutches of death. “You'll be okay now,” the girl said. “You'll be a grown-up flower sooner than you know it.” She grinned, then stood up. “I'm Niha.” That was when the forest felt a spark. A small electrical pulse of life. But was it from the sproutlet, or from the female. It wasn't from the sproutlet, the forest was sure. But before the forest could reach out again, she had left the forest. Perhaps this “Niha” was alive after all. But the forest could not ponder this any longer. It had a thaw to attend to, so that her trees would have more company. Trivia *For clarity: the forest is alive in the fact that it is conscious, but it cannot move and act as one organism. It is a normal forest, personified.